Such Desperate Creatures
by childxofxdeath
Summary: The team takes a day off and visits a street fair, but their camaraderie is called into question, and will be pushed to the absolute limits. In which The Avengers switch powers and get to know each other really well. Eventual Science Boyfriends, gets a bit dark along the way. Rated T for language and subject matter, may switch to M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Bruce trailed close behind Tony through the crowded county street fair. The smell of sweat and grease bombarded his nose, the flashing lights of the rides against the dying summer sun blinded him. Tony smiled, laughed, waved to the people pointing in recognition; Bruce focused on making himself as small as possible.

The rest of the team appeared to be varying degrees of uncomfortable. Clint and Natasha shared an uneasy look here and there as they picked through the openings of people. Thor commented on the wonders of Midgardian celebration, using his broad shoulders to push through clumps of teens. Steve strolled about with a faraway look on his face, no doubt trying to ignore the questionable outfits some of the skankier high school girls had picked out.

The fair had been Tony's idea. Of course it had. He was the only one who liked to be thrust into the middle of overcrowded, loud, public events, but it was his day to choose the venue for their day off, and the team (after some convincing, bribing, and all-out blackmailing) had complied.

"Oh!" exclaimed Natasha, pointing to a small, black booth. "A fortune teller. My grandmother used to take me to see one every year in Russia." (1)

"Come on Tasha," teased Clint "you can't honestly believe in that stuff."

"Of course not," she defended, "it's just for a bit of fun." She started over.

"I don't know about all that," said Steve. His mama said witchcraft and the like was the Devil's work.

"Well," began Tony, "we could go on the Zipper again."

The team stood in front of the booth, making their way over in record time. The fortune teller's name was Madame Penelope. (2) Natasha dropped a coin on the purple cloth on the counter.

"What is it that you wish to see?" asked Penelope. She was obviously blind and had two different colored eyes, one green and one blue.

"Make a prediction," demanded Tony. "What will our next challenge be?" Penelope took a deep breath and placed her palms on the counter. She shut her eyes, but they moved rapidly under her veined, aged lids, as if she was seeing something she could not when they were open.

"Rather than seeking to know the challenge ahead, you all must first face the one at hand. Although you have been thrown together in body, you are not of a singular mind." Clint snorted and Steve rolled his eyes. He knew that there was truth in her words, but what were they supposed to do, have hour long heart-to-hearts? No one would go for that.

"That's not a fortune!" cried Tony. "That's just a lucky observation." Bruce wondered how she could observe such a thing, or even know that there was more than one of them when only Tony had spoken. Unfazed, Madame Penelope continued.

"Each of you has a power, as true as my own. For some of you, it is your strength. For others," she said, opening her eyes, "your downfall." Bruce could swear those clouded, sightless eyes were staring straight through him. He shuddered. "Tomorrow, when you wake, you will be, not yourselves, but each other."

"Alright, that's enough of that bullshit," said Tony. He led the team away, laughing about "psycho, psychic, mumbo-jumbo." Bruce followed silently, pensive. He didn't necessarily believe in the supernatural, but he had seen things in his travels, things science could not explain.

He hoped Tony was right about Penelope being a carney fraud.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint was always the first one awake at Stark Tower. Tony had made modifications to accommodate the needs of the entire team, making the Tower much more convenient and comfortable than S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters. Clint grabbed his bow and sheath of arrows, all but inhaled a bowl of cereal, and took the elevator down to the indoor archery and shooting range Stark had installed.

He entered the large room in silence and set himself up. He strung an arrow, took a deep breath, let fly, and—

Missed. Clint missed the target. Not only did he fail to hit the bull's-eye, but the arrow flew straight over the top of the target and bounced off the metal enforced wall. Clint's mouth dropped open in shock, an expression he rarely conveyed, and he blinked hard. He stared at the fallen arrow.

"Okay," he breathed, "alright. Maybe I'm just tired." He restrung, took a deep breath, let fly, and—

Missed again.

"What the hell?" Madame Penelope's words were coming back to him.

_"Tomorrow, when you wake, you will be, not yourselves, but each other."_

"No way," he whispered. Clint sprinted out of the range and up the stairs, bypassing the elevator in his panic. He had never run so fast in his life. Literally, Clint didn't think he _could_ run so fast. He cleared the three stories and skittered to a stop in the kitchen without breaking a sweat.

"Jarvis?" he said to the air.

"Yes, Master Clint, how may I help you?" responded the AI in its calm British accent.

"Wake the others," he commanded, grabbing the cereal box from earlier. God, he was hungry. "Tell them to meet me in the kitchen immediately."

"Certainly, sir."

Natasha dreamed of being in handcuffs. She felt the cold metal on her wrists, secure and unyielding, saw the blank faces of the agents, just as cold, just as unyielding, heard them saying, "you're coming with us."

Natasha woke up in handcuffs. No, that wasn't quite right, there was no chain, but she could feel the cold metal clamped around her wrists. She tugged on them, trying to pull them over her hands, but they were too tight. They looked like a set of matching bracelets. She pulled the sheets around her more tightly and tried to remember putting them on, or having them put on her.

"Miss Natasha," began Jarvis politely.

"Yes, Jarvis?"

"Master Clint requests your presence in the kitchen. He says it is a matter of most urgency."

"Okay, tell him I'll be right there." Natasha was already rolling out of bed and pulling on her jumpsuit. Clint wouldn't wake her up unless there was a problem. She stashed a knife in her boot and headed out.

She continued to pull on the bracelet things as she walked into the kitchen. They would not come off, no matter how hard she tugged. She was greeted by a tired looking Steve, a panicked Clint (she had known him long enough to see the cracks in his composed face, and he in hers), and an ecstatic Thor.

"Friend Natasha!" called Thor, placing an amiable hand on her shoulder. She shrugged away, feeling it was too early to deal with human contact, but the demi-god was unabashed. "I am able to see all, much further and clearer than before! It is most intriguing!"

"What's going on, Clint?" sighed Natasha. Pulling, pulling, pulling at the damn handcuffs. _Bracelets,_ she thought, _just bracelets_.

"Okay Tasha," said Clint wearily, "you know how I made fun of you for believing in fortune telling yesterday?"

"Yeah…" she said slowly.

"I'm sorry." She stared at him for a minute before chuckling.

"Seriously Clint? Did that old crow's prophecy freak you out?"

"I missed the target at the range this morning Tasha," he whispered harshly, as though embarrassed. "Missed it. Twice!" That peaked Natasha's attention. Clint never missed, no matter what. And with Thor claiming to be able to see everything…

"Alright, so let's assume that this curse thing came true," said Steve, rubbing at his eyes. "Wouldn't it be prudent to next figure out who got who's powers?" Clint nodded and Natasha sighed.

"Certainly I have been given the powers of the man with eyes in likeness to a hawk!" boomed Thor.

"Huh, that's really a mouthful," mused Steve.

"Yeah, maybe you better just call me Clint, Thor."

"Okay, focus guys," said Natasha in exasperation. "Thor has Clint's powers, and with the way Clint is eating, he must either have Bruce's or Steve's."

"Do you feel about ready to kill everything?" came a voice from the doorway. The team looked up to find Bruce staggering in, a bit bedraggled. He was still in his pajamas.

"Nope," said Clint. "Long night in the lab, huh?" Bruce waved off his question and went to put on a pot of tea.

"Alright, you're not me then," he grumbled. "And I'm not me anymore either. I can't feel the Hulk."

"Is that a bad thing or a good thing?" asked Steve.

"Good for me," said Bruce, approaching the group, "bad for whoever ended up with him. Oh, and by the way Natasha, you have Tony's power. Those are the cuffs for the Mark VII."

"Joy," she drawled. "So Clint is Steve, Thor is Clint, and I'm Tony, leaving Tony, Bruce, and Steve to be determined. We still need to figure out who has Thor's power, mine, and Bruce's."

"Right," said Bruce. They stood in silence for a moment before Steve turned to Thor.

"Where's Mjolnir?"


	3. Chapter 3

The group headed over to Thor's room in silence. Bruce watched Steve carefully. He didn't seem to have the walk of someone who was suppressing major anger issues.

That left Tony. Bruce could only hope that the man's absence meant he was still sleeping, rather than tearing apart the upper levels of Stark Tower. He cursed himself for the millionth time. He knew that agreeing to live at the Tower had put everyone in danger, but he trusted himself to control The Hulk. Now, with his power in Tony's hands, there was no telling what would happen. He wished he had run when he had the chance, as soon as they'd sent Loki back to Asgard. If he hadn't been with the team at the fair yesterday, The Hulk wouldn't have been passed on to someone else.

Thor unlocked the door to his "chambers", as he called them, and ushered everyone inside. Mjolnir was laying on the nightstand next to the bed.

"Who wants to go first?" asked Clint, glancing between Bruce and Steve. Bruce stared at the ground and shuffled his feet. He hardly felt strong enough to stay standing, let alone lift Thor's hammer. Steve stepped forward and gripped Mjolnir. They all watched him, waiting. Steve flexed the muscles in his arm and yanked. The hammer would not budge. He tried again, but it didn't move. All eyes shifted to Bruce. He sighed and stepped forward.

"Maybe Tony got Thor's power," he said, staring at Mjolnir. "I'm still pretty pissed. Maybe The Other Guy just doesn't want to come out and play today."

"Just give it a shot, Bruce," said Natasha. He sighed again and placed a hand on the hammer.

Bruce felt like a wave of electricity was shooting up his arm and through his chest, consuming his whole body. The hair on his arm stood on edge and a chill ran up his spine. An engraving appeared on the face of the hammer, a Celtic knot if Bruce remembered correctly. He lifted Mjolnir as easily as a tool in the lab. Thunder roared in the distance.

"Bad ass," mused Clint. "How you feeling Steve?"

"Not like I'm going to smash everything."

"You must be Tasha then. Jarvis, what's going on with Tony?"

"He is lying in his bed sir, but he is awake," responded the AI slowly. Bruce wondered how Tony got him to express worry; it was thick in Jarvis' voice. "I informed him that you were all in the kitchen, but he refused to get up. I asked if he would like me to turn on the lights in his bedroom, but he said no. Presently, I am muted in all of his rooms."

"Thanks Jarvis," said Bruce. "Don't worry, we'll take care of it."

"Can computers even worry?" mumbled Natasha.

"Thank you Master Bruce," said Jarvis. "I have never seen him in such a state."

"Everyone suit up respectively," Clint said. "Then meet back in the kitchen. We have to figure out how to do this the right way."

Natasha had been worried that the Iron Man suit would be too big for her. However, she found that it tightened and clamped on to fit her body. That made sense. With the way Tony ate (or didn't eat) he was bound to lose a few pounds here and there, but the suit needed to fit him. Leave it to him to factor in everything. It was heavy and flashy, but it would do.

Regrouped, the team stood together back where they had started. Steve opted to wear his Captain America clothes, rather than the tight black jumpsuit Natasha usually sported. "I'm sure I can do…uh…whatever kind of fighting it is you do in this."

"I know quite a few different fighting styles," said Natasha. Steve hated that she was never specific. "I've been trained well, and have mastered them all. Hopefully, that carried over."

"Right," said Bruce, "so I think the best bet would be for me to go up there first. I know The Other Guy better than anyone, so maybe I can try to talk to him. I can also help Tony relax and contain him."

"What happens if something goes amiss?" asked Thor.

"That's where you guys come in," said Bruce. "Thor, I'm pretty sure you can see through Tony's window if you hang out on that balcony over there," he said, pointing across the street. "Try not to, you know, get caught. I think that's a hotel room, but I have no idea if there's anyone in it."

"It is vacant at this time, Master Bruce," chimed Jarvis, "but there it has been booked by a tourist couple for tomorrow afternoon."

"Okay, so that gives us time. Hopefully it won't take that long." Bruce dreaded to know how long they would be stuck with swapped powers. "I'll take Mjolnir with me. Thor, take Clint's bow. I'll give you a thumbs up or something if I need you to try and subdue The Other Guy, but no exploding arrows, only standard ones." He sincerely hoped it wouldn't be necessary. The Other Guy didn't take too well to being shot at. "Natasha, you can wait down here somewhere, maybe on the closest floor where Jarvis isn't muted."

"That would be the thirty-first, sir. Master Tony is on the thirty-third, and his floors are the thirty-second to the thirty-fourth. I will inform Miss Romanov if you need her." Natasha nodded and walked over to the elevator with some difficulty. The suit was so awkward to move in.

"What should Clint and I do?" asked Steve. Bruce wondered when he became the leader. He thought for a minute.

"Jarvis, is the fair still going on?"

"Yes, Master Bruce, it will be in town for another evening."

"Alright, you two go find Madame Penelope," Bruce sighed. "Ask her to change us back or something. I'll have Jarvis call Steve's phone if things get out of hand here." The two nodded and took off. Clint didn't like to leave Natasha when she was so out of her element, but the sooner they could switch back, the safer she would be.

Bruce waited for everyone Thor and Natasha to get into position before taking the elevator up to the thirty-third floor. He was nervous. He had never actually _seen_ The Other Guy, other than in news footage, and he was not looking forward to having to possibly face him. He didn't want to see the monster he truly was inside. Bruce tried to control his heart rate as it climbed, before realizing it wasn't an issue anymore. At least, not for the time being. He should feel relieved, or at least just worried about Tony and the team.

Instead, he felt the anger, throbbing still in the back of his mind. It pressed on him like a hot cattle prod. His shoulders were tense, his ears ringing. He didn't feel any different, other than the notable absence of The Other Guy's occasional grunts to be let out. He still wanted to scream, still had to stifle it.

The elevator dinged and opened to Tony's apartment style floor. There was a small kitchen and a lounge area with a mini bar. The open bay windows led to a balcony overlooking the Manhattan streets below.

"Tony?" whispered Bruce, turning to the right. He could hear what sounded like a low moan coming from a room on the far right of the floor. Bruce wandered down the hallway to the last door, pressing his ear against it. For a while, there was nothing, and Bruce was beginning to think he had the wrong room. Then, a sob broke through the silence. Bruce took a stuttering breath and twisted the doorknob, heart hammering in his throat. "Tony?" he repeated.

The man in question was laying in the dark with his face crushed into a pillow, shaking. If he heard Bruce enter, he was choosing to ignore him.

"Tony, it's me," said Bruce, slowly approaching the oversized bed. "I think we've all actually switched—"

"Switched powers?" came a muffled wail. "No shit Sherlock. And I'm you." Bruce's heart sank.

"I know. I-Tony, I'm so sorry. I knew I shouldn't—shouldn't have stayed here," Bruce said, his words rushed and quiet in his panic. "I jeopardized everyone's safety. This wouldn't have happened if—"

"Shut up, Bruce, this isn't your fault." Bruce shut up. Tony didn't sound angry, just tired. It was odd. He should be screaming, ripping things apart, even Hulking-out by now. Instead he was just lying there, sounding about ready to give out.

"You're, uh, doing a good job at keeping calm," said Bruce, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed. Tony rolled over. Tears were flowing in a constant stream down his cheeks.

"Do I _look_ fucking calm to you?" he sobbed, wrapping his arms around his gut and pulling his knees up to his chest. His breathing was staggered and harsh. "How the _fuck_ do you do this?" Bruce shrugged.

"I try and relax," he whispered. _I watch you work in the lab, listen to you talk, smile when you joke around with me. You're the only one who's not afraid of me._

"I don't mean how do you keep from letting the Big Guy out," Tony replied, "I mean how do you live with all this pain every day, and do nothing about it?"

"I—I've been trying to find a cure."

"No, without saying anything. Talking to anyone about it," his friend gripped the sheets, turning a very pale shade of green. "Oh God, I'm going to puke." Bruce ran for the garbage pail in the bathroom and handed it to Tony, who made good use of it. Bruce sat beside him, rubbing slow circles on his friend's back.

"It's been easier lately," said Bruce, "with all of you guys around. When I was on my own, it would get so bad that I'd just give in after a while. Now I have other people to worry about. People I care about, who might even care for me." Tony blinked up at Bruce through the tears.

"Of course we care about you Bruce," he said, calming a bit. "_I_ care about you a great deal. You saved my life."

"And you saved mine." It was almost a whisper, but Tony caught it. He looked Bruce dead in the eyes, for once without even a trace of green.

Tony Stark was feeling anything but sexy. Nonetheless, he leaned in, eyes fluttering, and pressed a gentle kiss to Bruce's mouth.

Thor gaped from his perch on the balcony.


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce was mildly shocked, but leaned into the kiss all the same. Tony's lips were soft, and despite his nervous hesitancy, Bruce could tell he was usually a very skilled kisser. Just as Bruce began to relax into the kiss, Tony pulled back, his eyes wide with terror, and still damp with tears.

"Oh God," he muttered, "Bruce, I'm so sorry. I—I don't know what's wrong with me."

"It's alright Tony," said Bruce, wiping a stray tear from Tony's cheek. "I'm not upset."

"Really?" asked Tony. "I mean, would you like to do it again?" Bruce would have laughed if he hadn't seen the fear in the man's eyes.

"Sure Tony, but maybe when you're feeling better," he replied. "You know, shower, eat something. Maybe brush your teeth?" Tony blushed.

"Crap, was it gross?" This time Bruce did laugh.

"No, I just think that you're tired and will be able to think better after you've freshened up a bit. Then you can tell me if you still want to do this." Bruce wasn't sure _he_ wanted to do this, but it had stopped Tony from crying, hadn't it? He could hold out until they switched back and Tony was in the right place to make that kind of a call. Tony nodded and rolled out of bed. He staggered into the bathroom, mumbling "five minutes."

Tony looked into the bathroom mirror. His eyes were rimmed with red, his hair a complete mess. He couldn't bring himself to care. Thoughts raced through his mind, as usual, but not the scientific type; they were the type he normally drowned out with heavy drinking.

_Your father wouldn't be proud of you. Look at you. You're nothing._ Tony looked away from the mirror, climbed into the shower fully clothed, and turned the water on, _hot_. The thoughts didn't stop.

_You're an asshole. A little piece of shit, and everyone knows it. Even Pepper couldn't stay with you and she's the most patient person ever._

"Shut up, shut up, shut up."

_Your father always liked Cap better than you, but you could never be him. Never. Even when your powers got switched you couldn't be him. You aren't __**worthy**__._

Tony collapsed, lying flat on his back in the tub. His head blocked the water to the drain, causing the water to pool.

_Maybe the tub will fill up and you'll just drown. Everyone would be better off without you anyway._

Tony let out a racking sob.

Bruce sat on the edge of Tony's bed. He wasn't sure if he should stay or leave, and opted for the former. He knew that Tony was in a vulnerable place, and didn't want to leave him to fend for himself.

The whole thing was a bit odd. Not just the switching powers, although that was strange and disconcerting all on its own. No, what was odd was that Tony didn't seem at all angry. He seemed…dejected. Put out.

As if on cue, Bruce heard a sob from the bathroom.

"Tony, are you alright?" His question was met with more violent sobbing, made quiet by the heavy bathroom door. Bruce rushed in to find Tony lying on his back in the bathtub, the shower water building up around his body.

"Tony!" He dropped to his knees and plunged his arms into the water, pulling Tony into a sitting position and leaning the man's head against his chest. "Tony, it's okay. I'm here, right here. You're okay."

Tony's breathing was shallow and pained. Bruce lifted him easily out of the tub and sat him on the floor beside him, running a soothing hand over his face. Tony sighed and began to calm down, tears still flowing from his eyes.

"Does he talk to you like that too?"

"Like what? Who are you talking about?"

"The Hulk," stuttered Tony. "Does he tell you horrible things like that?"

"No he—he doesn't talk to me," said Bruce, confused. "He just grunts and shows me things he wants to smash." Tony sighed again. It was not a sound Bruce was used to hearing from the normally confident man. It was unnerving.

"He's right about me."

Bruce held Tony close, rocking him slightly. He had no idea what The Other Guy had said, but he felt his blood pumping hot in his veins. The Big Guy really knew how to piss him off.

Bruce helped Tony dress, taking him into his arms every time he looked close to tears.

"Shh," he would whisper, "it's okay."

Thor had watched most of the ordeal from his position on the balcony across the street. He had missed what had happened when Tony, then Bruce, had gone into the bathroom, but Bruce seemed to have the situation under control. Thor climbed over the balcony rail and down the side of the building. Friend Clint's powers were most useful, and a good bit of fun. Thor crossed the street and entered Stark Tower, taking the elevator back up to the main Avenger's floor.

"Friend Jarvis," he boomed, taking a seat in the kitchen. "Please inform Friend Natasha that she may be at ease. It seems that Friends Bruce and Tony will be rejoining us."

"Very well, sir."

Tony stayed close to Bruce for the remainder of the day, or what was left of it; the kitchen clock read four in the afternoon. He had stopped crying, but looked considerably worse for the wear, and found a way to touch Bruce whenever possible. He brushed their hands together while heating a can of ravioli he wasn't going to eat, sat so that their legs were touching beneath the kitchen table. Without The Other Guy, Bruce was handling the unnecessary amount of contact pretty well, but it confused him. He couldn't handle it when he had The Hulk; Tony, on the other hand, seemed to crave it.

The four Avengers were sitting in silence (something that had become a habit that day) when Bruce received a call from Clint on his phone.

"Jarvis," he said, pick up Clint's call and put it on speaker.

"Yes sir," responded the AI.

"Hello Clint."

"Bruce! We're at the fair. We've been looking around for hours," came Clint's voice. He sounded frustrated and exhausted. "Penelope isn't here."

"What?" gasped Natasha. "Where did she go?"

"We don't know," replied Steve. "She vanished. We asked some of the other carnival workers where she went. They said they'd never even heard of her."

"Shit," said Natasha.

"Indeed," chimed Jarvis.

"Alright, come back home," sighed Bruce. "It's getting late. We'll regroup, rest, and try and figure this out tomorrow."

"Right," said Clint. "Be there soon." The line went dead.

"Jarvis," said Bruce tiredly. He hated being in charge; he was sure this was the most he'd spoken in a year.

"Yes Master Bruce?"

"Run a search on Madame Penelope. Save anything you find on aliases, whereabouts, or anything of importance and save it in a new folder. Let me know if you find her."

"Certainly sir."

Another hour passed and Clint and Steve returned. There was a small exchange of greeting and words between the group before they all fell pensive again. Tony and Bruce sat cramped side by side in an armchair meant to seat one; nobody chose to comment. One by one, they all broke off to their respective rooms, tired and beaten. Bruce half walked half carried Tony back to his bedroom. For a man that had slept so much, he looked like he hadn't slept in days. Bruce all but tucked Tony in, and placed a kiss on his forehead before the other scientists fell into a troubled sleep. Bruce stayed with him for a while, resolving to stay until he was convinced the other would not wake up, and drifted off himself. He woke a good eight hours later to find Tony still sleeping restlessly beside him. He sighed and quietly exited the room, making his way back to his own.

"Jarvis, any word on Penelope?" he asked once he was safely in the elevator.

"Not as of yet sir. So far, my search has turned up zero results."

"Okay, well, keep me posted," he sighed. "And please notify me if Tony wakes up, or seems to be having a nightmare." Bruce knew how bad they could get.

"I certainly will, sir."

Bruce stood in the kitchen of the apartment complex Tony had built for him with the microwave fan on and a cigarette in his right hand. He had quit years back, but had picked the habit up again after The Accident. With the way The Other Guy caused his cells to heal and regenerate, he knew cancer wasn't something he had to worry about. Sure, smoking caused his heart rate to be faster than it should, but he found the process calming. Drag, inhale, hold, exhale.

Clint knocked quietly on the apartment door. Jarvis let him in automatically, another thing that was becoming a habit. This was the third week in a row that Clint had been paying nightly visits to Bruce.

"Hey," he said in his light Southern accent, hopping up onto the kitchen counter and sitting cross-legged.

"Hey yourself," Bruce replied, taking another long drag on his cigarette. Clint lit up one of his own and the two stood in friendly silence for a while. Clint took a swig out of a small metal flask before holding it out to Bruce. The older man took it with a tilt of his head and drank. The liquid stung his throat. He didn't usually drink, but for some reason it was okay to imbibe once in a while at two in the morning with a master assassin.

"God, that stings," he grumbled. "What the hell is that?"

"Moonshine," shrugged Clint. "Learned to make it back at home. Good for cleaning engines and—"

"And killing brain cells," finished Bruce, grinning.

"The Matrix," Clint said, taking another draw from the flask. "A fine feature film." Bruce nodded and the pair fell silent again. The only noise was the whir of the microwave fan, the bustle of cars in the street.

_Truly the city that never sleeps,_ thought Clint.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Bruce asked in barely a whisper. Clint nodded. "Why do you come up here every night? It's not that I mind, I was just…just wondering." Clint took another drag from his cigarette before answering.

"Two reasons," he said seriously. "One, I can't smoke anywhere else in the house besides my room, and Tasha would smell the smoke from there. Two," he said, looking Bruce in the eye, "you're easy to be with."

"Really?" chuckled Bruce, putting out his butt. "Huh. I figured you probably hated me after, you know, after I went after Natasha." Clint shook his head.

"That was The Hulk, not you."

"Most people don't recognize the difference. They refer to him as me," he growled. "They say things like, remember that time _Bruce_ helped defeat the aliens, and, remember that time _Bruce_ caught Tony?" He was gripping the edge of the stove. Clint watched his friend's knuckles turn white, watched the rage consume his features, and for the first time, Clint was happy that they'd all switched powers. "And it's cool, I guess, when they focus on things like that. But really, it's the same as saying, remember that time _Bruce_ chased Natasha, and destroyed Harlem, and killed those people at the lab when he changed?" Bruce was almost shouting at this point, and Clint laid a hesitant hand on the scientist's shoulder. "Remember when Bruce got locked up for the shit he was pulling? And it's not me, Clint. It's not fucking me!"

"I know. I know that, Bruce." His teammate sighed, looking considerably older than he was. There was a tired wrinkle in his brow, a dullness under his eyes, a weight that did not belong to a man in his forties.

"I'm sorry," he said, letting the tension out of his knuckles. "It's just that, I don't want this. Any of it. I don't want to be a hero any more than I want to be the monster I've become."

"You're not a monster, Bruce," said Clint, sliding off the counter top to stand and face his friend. "You're a good man, who a very bad thing has happened to. I know it's hard. I've killed people too, you know. Before and after I started working for S.H.I.E.L.D." Bruce looked up at him, considering what he'd just said. "The difference is I was in my right mind every single time. You weren't. You cannot be blamed for the actions that are taken by The Hulk."

"But he is a part of me. I created him," Bruce huffed, "and through my own anger he came to be violent. Dangerous. His crimes are a result of my mistakes, and I will pay for them."

"Don't you think you already have?" Bruce blinked and stared at Clint. He said nothing.

Finally he whispered, "I just don't want to deal with it anymore, Clint. Being a hero, a villain, anything. I just want to be normal again."

"You were never normal," said Clint firmly. Bruce looked at him, a bit offended. "You're a genius. Hulk or no Hulk, we need you on the team."

"You've got Tony."

"Yeah," Clint scoffed. "Tony's a genius. The thing is though, Tony knows he's a genius, and he makes damn sure that everyone else knows it too. I got nothing against the man. He's a part of the team, has atoned for his wrongs, and I know that he'd have my back or any of ours when it's important. But I wouldn't be coming up here to see Tony every night."

"But you'll come to see me?"

"You don't make me feel like an idiot," he replied simply. "Tony does. Not on purpose, he just does. And that's what I mean. You're a genius, but I can have a normal conversation with you."

"You don't need me for that," sighed Bruce. "You have Natasha."

"True, Tasha and I are close," admitted Clint. "But I can't have a normal conversation with her."

"Why not?"

"Same reason that despite all your common interests, and your ability to follow each other, and the way you work so well together in the lab and out, you can't have a normal conversation with Tony." This was a statement. A very blunt, very true statement, and Bruce knew Clint saw more than just targets with those incredible eyes of his. _God, _he thought, completely off topic, _to have that sight and then have it taken away…_ He was broken from his thoughts by Clint's drawl. "Because I am in love with her, and because she has no idea what love even is." Bruce nodded.

Clint stuck his finished cigarette in the ashtray and headed for the door with a final pat to Bruce's shoulder.

"Get some rest Big Guy, and think about what I said. I'd like to keep you around."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys, sorry I haven't updated in a few days. I'm just having some serious writer's block in regards to this story, but something hit me today while I was making mac and cheese (totally unrelated, but hey, whatever works). Anyway, I know this is kind of a short chapter, but I hope it will do for now. If anyone has suggestions or comments, leave me some feedback, I love getting reviews. Thanks for reading!**

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Bruce wandered into the lounge the next morning to find everyone already up and watching a news program on the flat screen. Everyone besides Tony, that is. Bruce sighed and dropped into the armchair he'd vacated the night before. He hoped the man wouldn't sleep until noon again. Of course, that was a common occurrence among the scientists; they would work to ungodly hours of the morning, sometimes for days at a time, before stumbling into the elevator and going to their respective rooms to drop off into exhaustion. Still, Tony and Bruce hadn't worked the night before, and although the day had been trying, Bruce didn't think it was good for Tony to sleep so late after going to bed at a reasonable hour. Sleeping through the pain would only make it worse, make Tony feel sluggish and isolated.

"Jarvis," began Bruce, startling the team when he broke the somewhat comfortable silence, "is Tony awake?"

"No sir, although he has been tossing and turning," responded the A.I. "Would you like me to wake him?"

"No thanks, I'll do it."

"Do you want us to get back in position?" asked Natasha, already rising from her spot next to Clint on the couch. His hand lay inches from hers; she seemed not to notice.

"It's alright, Natasha" said Bruce. "I don't think he's dangerous. There's something weird about how he's acting, like The Other Guy isn't making him violent. But if things seem to get out of hand, Jarvis will inform you." She nodded and sat back down. Clint inched a bit closer when she wasn't paying attention and gave Bruce a sad wink.

"How will I know to inform you, sir?"

"Well, I don't think it should be an issue, but it's your call," said Bruce, evenly. "If it looks to you like there's a problem, then there probably is one. I don't want to upset him more by calling for the team."

"Very well, sir."

Bruce hauled himself from the comfortable chair, still a bit fatigued both physically and mentally. He rode the elevator back up to Tony's floor. It was the same scene as yesterday, minus a crying Tony. The blinds were drawn, the lights were out, and there was Tony, lying in bed. He mumbled in his sleep. Bruce crossed the room and made to open the blinds, but was interrupted by Tony calling his name.

"Ysheing," he groaned, turning over. His eyes were still shut.

"What, Tony?" The man didn't respond. _Can't even shut up in his sleep_, Bruce thought and chuckled, throwing open the curtains to let some light in. "Come on, Tony. It's time to get up."

"Yeejjns," Tony mumbled. "Yens."

"What is it?"

"Oh, God. Help me," Tony wound about in his sleep, clutching at the sheets. He was sweating, his face a pale, greyish-green. Bruce put a hand on his shoulder and shook him a bit.

"Tony, wake up," said Bruce, louder this time. "You're having a nightmare. Wake up." Tony knocked Bruce's hand a way and shot up into a sitting position.

"Yensin!" he screamed "Yensin, no!"

"Tony, it's okay!" Bruce said, sitting on the bed next to Tony. "It's just a dream, a nightmare." He put a hand on Tony's shoulder again, and had it knocked away a second time.

"No!" Tony yelled, his eyes flicking in all directions and filled with deep green. "Don't touch me!" Bruce caught Tony's face between his hands and forced him to look in his eyes.

"Tony, it's me. It's Bruce!" Tony stopped, his hands clamping over Bruce's.

"Bruce." He blinked hard, his eyes returning to their normal shade. "Bruce, oh. What are you doing here?"

"I—I live here," said Bruce. "Well not here in your room here, but here in the Tower." Tony looked at him with a mixture of panic and confusion. "You're home Tony. Safe, with me." Tony registered his words and dropped onto his shoulder.

"Oh fuck, Bruce. I was dreaming," he mumbled into Bruce's shirt. The tears were back.

"Yeah," said Bruce, winding his arms around his…friend, boyfriend? His Tony. "You were, and screaming. What were you dreaming about?"

"Afghanistan," cried Tony "and Yensin. I couldn't save him, Bruce. He wouldn't go with me. They shot him because of me."

"It's okay Tony," said Bruce.

"No, it's not," Tony said, pushing away from Bruce. The other man kept his arms around him anyway. "All those innocent people, Yensin, the people in his villiage. They died because of me, because of my weapons."

"Weapons that you destroyed," said Bruce, pushing Tony's hair back. "It wasn't your fault, Tony, you couldn't have known—"

"Couldn't have known what?" Tony demanded. The green was coming back to his flooded eyes. "That weapons are used to kill people? Gee, you're right Bruce, I didn't fucking know that."

"It's not your fault," repeated Bruce.

"Of course it is!" yelled Tony, pulling away from Bruce entirely. "Everything is my fault, always. Their deaths were my fault, it was my fault you got tortured because I made the weapons to do it with! It's my fault that Pepper left, that Rhodey never calls, that my dad couldn't fucking stand to be around me. And when you leave, when you finally can't deal with me anymore and that perfectly controlled patience breaks, that will be my fault too!"

"Tony." The man was standing now, tears flowing freely, green consuming each of his irises entirely. But he wasn't roaring with anger, he was curling in on himself again.

"And I deserve it. I deserve the guilt, and I deserve everyone hating me for what I did or forgot to do. I'm just not good enough!"

The team burst through Tony's bedroom door just in time to hear the last part of his rant.

"You called the team on me?" sobbed Tony, glaring at Bruce.

"No! Tony, I—"

"I don't blame you," he whimpered, backing further and further away. "I'm a piece of shit and I deserve it." Bruce could see it happening, but was powerless to stop it, and in that moment it may as well have been him transforming.

Only it wasn't. It was a different thing entirely.

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The way Tony Hulked-out was quite different from the way Bruce Hulked-out. When Bruce Hulked-out, his whole body seemed to tear open, fighting the green mass on its way. The Hulk would come out gnashing his teeth, punching, smashing, growling, and screaming.

Tony's body seemed to crinkle in on itself, collapsing. Tony doubled over, his hands fisted in balls in his stomach. There was a look of absolute desperate abandon in his eyes, like a plea, as he took a shuddering breath and gave in. The Hulk let out an animalistic wail, but not of rage, not this time. It was a broken sound, a lost sound, like an infant in a crowd who's been separated from his mother. Tony's Hulk could hardly be called a hulk at all; he was a frail looking being, with his shoulders rounded in on himself. He stood at about five feet high before collapsing to his knees. He couldn't have been more than one hundred pounds soaking wet.

The team stood in awe as crocodile tears rolled down the sobbing "monster's" cheeks. _Of course, _thought Steve, _the Hulk in Tony isn't a giant green rage monster. He's been so withdrawn these past two days, but not to control the anger. To hide his…_

Sadness. Pure sadness. Depression wasn't a strong enough word. Depression left a person numb and empty, not sobbing, retching, searching for help. Tony's clothes flooded over the Hulk's thin frame as he reached out a shaking hand. It was a pale green, like sea foam, not at all like the vibrant, dark forest green of Bruce's Hulk.

Bruce cautiously stepped forward and took the outstretched hand. He crouched down before the beast that had caged him for so long.

"Hulk?" he murmured. "What's wrong?"

"Oh," breathed the creature, exhausted. "Alone."


	6. Chapter 6

"We're all alone, Hulk," said Clint after a pause. They were all startled to hear him speak. "Or we were, anyway. But somehow we got thrown together to make this team, this crazy, dysfunctional—family."

And it was true, wasn't it? Thor had been cast out of his own home (taken back eventually, but the pain was still there) and basically abandoned by his brother. Natasha and Clint wandered the world, doing hits for a government that could wipe either one of them away for one false move. Steve was out of his time, his element. All of the people he knew were long gone and he was left to cope. Bruce had been in hiding for years, running from the people he loved, and feared, and hated, living like a hermit.

And Tony? Tony was the one everyone left behind in the end.

"Hulk not part of family," grumbled the creature, "Flying Metal part of family, and puny Bruce that Hulk protect, but not Hulk. Everyone scared of Hulk. Even Bruce hate Hulk. And Flying Metal nice to Hulk for Bruce sake."

"I don't hate you," said Bruce. "I hate the things my anger made you do." Hulk turned wide eyes to the man who had created him.

"Hulk try protect puny Bruce," whispered the Hulk. "Always get in trouble."

"I know, Big Guy," said Bruce sadly. He felt bad for the misguided angst he'd aimed at the Hulk all these years. His creation didn't want anything to destroy him, and simply didn't know how to handle his own strength. The Other Guy—The Hulk—was an overgrown child who needed to be taught, and Bruce had been doing it wrong. Seeing this Hulk, he couldn't bring himself to fear or hate him.

"You are part of the family," said Clint, and damn if he wasn't just taking the lead on this one. Bruce was grateful for that; he knew how to handle the Hulk when he was safely locked away inside, not when he was out in the open. "That's what I'm trying to tell you, dude. You took care of those space robot things better than anyone, and you caught Tony when he was falling. We know you're here to help, we just didn't know it before." Everyone nodded. The Hulk sat silently, contemplating. "We need you, just like we need everyone else on the team."

There was silence again. The Hulk considered them all, one by one, his gaze finally falling on Natasha. She hid the sudden fear she felt behind her porcelain face; now was not the time to upset the beast.

"Hulk chase Spider-lady." She nodded. "Sorry."

"It's…it's okay," she breathed.

"Still scared?" She shook her head. The tan pigment was slowly coming back to The Hulk's skin, his eyes deepening to blackish-brown. "Hulk never smash team. Never smash family."

As soon as it had begun, it was over. Tony collapsed into Bruce's arms, fully transformed into his usual self.

"Wha? What happened?"

"You turned into The Green One," stated Thor.

"Oh shit, what'd I break?" asked Tony, using all of his strength to sit up and look around frantically. Everything seemed to be in order.

"Nothing," said Bruce. "The Other Guy, he was different this time."

"What do you mean?"

"Excuse me for interrupting sir," cut in Jarvis, "but I believe I have located the fortune teller. I will show you the recording of your transformation later, but I think this holds priority."

"Couldn't be more correct, Jarvis," huffed Tony, leaning on Bruce. "Where is she?"

"She seems to be at a large manor which doubles as a school for gifted children," said Jarvis. "I can give you the coordinates."

"Where did you find the information Jarvis?" asked Bruce. Something was amiss; an hour ago, the A.I. hadn't found anything.

"Funny story, that," replied Jarvis, sounding almost ashamed. It always amazed Bruce that Tony's bots were programed with such realistic emotion. _He probably did it on purpose, so he'd have someone sentient to talk to when the Tower's empty,_ he thought with a pang of grief for his lonesome friend. "I… may or may not have hacked into a grouping of secret government files. I wasn't sure if I should, but I was convinced that Master Tony would have allowed me to, were he coherent. Encouraged me to, even."

"Atta boy, Jarvis," chuckled Tony. He looked more cheerful than he had in days. Perhaps the prospect of getting rid of The Other Guy livened his spirits. "Let's get those coordinates." He made to stand and promptly collapsed back onto Bruce who lifted him easily. The other scientist made a mental note to force his friend to eat.

"Sleep first," he commanded, dumping Tony back into his bed. "Then food, then coordinates."

"Jeez, getting bossy aren't we?" mumbled Tony in a joking air. Bruce simply crossed his arms. "Alright, alright," the man replied, slipping under the sheets. He was tired, even more so than before he'd Hulked-out. He understood how Bruce could sleep for days at a time after a transformation. The rest of the team shuffled out of the room, but something was off. They patted Tony on the shoulder, shot him almost pitying looks that were filled with a new fondness as well. He didn't know what to make of it, so he chose to ignore it, filing it away somewhere in his brain for later consideration. Bruce brought up the end of the train, grasping Tony's hand and smiling.

"Get some rest, okay?" He let go and made to leave the room.

"Hey wait! Aren't you going to sleep with me? You know, in case I have another nightmare!" called Tony. The sarcasm was thin in his voice, but detectable. "I need my Teddy Bear." Bruce grinned as he flicked out the lights.

"Good night, Tony."

"But it's daytime! Daddy, I don't want a nap!" Bruce shut the door and chuckled. His friend was back.

With the lights out, just as he began to drift off, Tony wished that Bruce had stayed.

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**I know it's another short one, and I know I've been away for far too long again (unintentional Nickleback lyrics…haha). I'm sorry. Bear with me, I'm getting ready to go away to college and all the packing and planning and stuff is stressful and leaving me very little time to write. **

**And yes, this is going to turn into a cross-over. It wasn't originally intended to be, but I just can't see any other way to go with it. I promise the story will remain Avengers centric and will not focus too much on the other characters/location. Brownie Points to anyone who can guess where Penelope is. :D Let me know if I should go a little further with Bruce and Tony, I know I promised Science Boyfriends and I can develop it faster if you want. **

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and the previous ones. They're my motivation to keep writing this fic! **


	7. Chapter 7

With Tony calmed and in bed, the team dispersed to different areas of the house to cool off themselves.

Thor went to the archery range to try out his friend's skill with a bow. He was pleased as each arrow he loosed hit its mark; Thor was envious, suddenly, of Friend Clint's sight. If only he'd had such sight before, perhaps he would have seen the beginnings of sorrow showing on Brother Loki's face, the jealousy, the pain.

Thor loosed another arrow. It stuck in the bull's-eye with a satisfying thud.

xxx

Steve ran through the obstacle course Stark had built for Natasha. He did handstands, flips, back handsprings, kicked, punched, leaped. The Super Soldier Serum had made him agile and fit enough, but he'd never known so many techniques, never been able to twist and throw his body in so many ways. He hooked his knees over a high bar and hung upside down, taking a moment to breathe. He'd always considered Natasha the weak link of the team. Not that she was a weak person, not at all, she had strength within her that Steve admired. It was just that she didn't seem to have a special skill set. Maybe it was because she was the only woman on the team, or because she didn't use weapons as a rule. Maybe it was the sparse little suit she wore. Either way, when Steve was worried during a fight, it was usually about how Natasha was holding up. But now, using the knowledge she'd involuntarily leant him, the martial arts and gymnastic skills, Steve found himself wondering if _he_ was the weak link after all. All he knew is what the military trained him to know.

xxx

Clint decided to borrow Cap's punching bags. He took a deep breath and forced himself to continue breathing, kicking the bag and punching it as hard as he could. He was blissfully blind to the world for a moment, the tension in his shoulders unwinding as he let go on the bag. He could hear his fists cracking into it, feel it swinging back and forth, feel the drag of his knuckles against the canvas, but he didn't see it. His eyes were shut. For once. He thought about Tony's grief, Bruce's hate and need to escape, Thor's loss and Steve's as well, each emotion landing a harder and harder swing to the bag. And Tasha, and Tasha, and Tasha. Fighting beside him, kicking, punching, shooting, gritting her teeth, hiding out with him in the jungle on one particularly nasty mission, wandering the Tower at night, Budapest. And her eyes, seeing him but not registering, not reflecting his feelings, and God it _hurt_.

When the bag flew off the hook in the ceiling, Clint's eyes snapped back open. Suddenly, he knew why Cap spent so much time in here; it was so easy to get lost, to forget, and to remember.

xxx

Natasha figured that the best place for her was the lab; it was time she really got acquainted with the Iron Man technology. She put the suit on and stood on the test pad in the center of the room, Dum-E close by to put out any fires she might cause. She could have sworn she heard Jarvis mumble "here we go again."

She was not nervous. Natasha Romanov did not get nervous. She did, however, know when to ask for help.

"You're going to have to talk me through this, Jarvis," she said, helmet securing over her head. The lights inside flicked on with specs and targets. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

Jarvis explained most of the technology, and what the different things on the screen indicated. He pulled up a diagram of the suit itself and explained the basics of flying, using the hand and chest "guns", and detonation the other various weapons the suit had to offer. Natasha was not a genius, but she knew guns. S.H.I.E.L.D had made sure of that. What she was most nervous about-_not nervous, _she insisted to herself, _unfamiliar with_-was the flying aspect of the suit. She decided to start out with hovering. After about an hour, Natasha was zooming around the lab, away from important looking things of course, and actually _smiling_.

"This is actually really cool," she said to no one in particular. Luckily, Jarvis was there to respond.

"It certainly is, ma'am." She grinned.

"Jarvis, tell Barton to come down here," she said, still smiling, zipping back and forth, careful not to pick up too much speed, "I want him to check this out."

"Right away ma'am."

Such a light feeling; it formed in the pit of her stomach and she could giggle if that was something Natasha Romanov did, which it was not. Still, she _was_ smiling, and that was different. She turned to see herself in the reflective glass of the lab wall. She noticed quite a few broken panels, but chose to ignore them. When she'd first met Tony Stark, she'd classified him as a textbook narcissist. After seeing him today, she knew that was just a façade. She couldn't believe she'd missed it before. He never read paper articles on him, muted the news reports about himself, and there were the glass panels, broken on the lab floor. For a man who seemed so full of himself, he didn't really like to look at himself all that much, did he?

Natasha pushed the thoughts from her mind, and flew to the other side of the room again, doubling back. She was looking forward to the evening, when it would be dark enough to take the suit outside for a spin. She grinned again at the thought.

Clint stood in the doorway to the lab. He watched her fly around for a moment, choosing to remain silent. He didn't want to spoil the moment; Natasha was smiling.

xxx

Bruce sat on the edge of the roof atop Stark Tower. He didn't have The Other Guy anymore. If he jumped off, he would die.

He looked at the pavement, so many stories down. It would be so easy, to just tip forward and let himself fall. His skin would not rip apart. He would not lose control. The Other Guy wouldn't rip anyone apart. It would just be free-fall for a while, and then nothing. Beautiful nothing.

Instead, Bruce clutched Mjolnir. He thrust the hammer into the sky and was met with a flash of lightening. Thunder rolled and the clouds over Manhattan darkened. Bruce stood, and cranked the hammer in a circular motion, gathering power. He'd seen Thor do it before; he still doubted himself, but hoped it would work. He'd always wanted to fly.

Bruce stopped swinging the hammer and leapt off the building, into the air. For a moment, he thought he might fall. But then Mjolnir whipped him into the sky, into the storm. Bruce laughed as the rain drenched his skin.

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The next morning, the Avengers assembled in the lounge. Tony was eyeing the bar like a man possessed, but seemed to have a better handle on himself overall; he had showered and was dressed in his Black Sabbath T-Shirt and a pair of dark washed jeans. He stood close to Bruce.

"I'm uh, sorry about what happened yesterday," he mumbled, staring at the floor, the bar, the flat screen…anything but his fellow team members.

"It's alright Tony," said Steve. "It was bound to happen at some point." Tony nodded and slipped into silence. He took Bruce's hand, and everyone pretended not to notice.

"Right," said Bruce. "So, we need to head over to this school today and try and talk to Penelope."

"Are we taking an attack strategy?" asked Natasha. She was suited up again, the visor of the helmet pushed back to show her face.

"No, I think just trying to talk to her is the best plan," said Bruce, catching the way Natasha seemed to stand a little straighter with the suit on, "convince her to change us back. Still," he conceded, "we can't go unarmed. We need to be ready for a fight."

"Well, Tasha and I are always ready," smirked Clint, moving closer to his comrade.

"I have done battle in many realms, against many foes," rumbled Thor. "But I always have Mjolnir."

"Yeah," said Steve, "how are we going to do this without our own powers?"

"Guys, there might not even be any need to use them," sighed Bruce. "Diplomatic approach, remember?" The others cast sideways glances at each other but said nothing.

"If we need to use each other's powers, we can handle it," said Tony. "Natasha seems to be pretty comfortable in my suit." She shrugged. "And Clint, even without your arrows you can do hand to hand like a champ. With Steve's Super Soldier shit in you, you'll be fine. Thor's been hitting the archery range every day since this all went down, and Steve has caught on to the martial arts no problem. And I saw you flying last night," he said, turning to Bruce.

"How the hell do you know all this?" asked Steve.

"There was nothing on T.V." shrugged Tony. "I had to watch _something_ while I was lying around. Jarvis has eyes everywhere," he admitted sheepishly. There were groans and chuckles from the team, but Tony quickly interrupted them. "Really, the only one who doesn't have a handle on the whole body-swap thing is me. And I don't even get the cool, pissed off Hulk, I turn into some emo kid with a serious case of gang green." No one chose to argue.

Bruce almost said something at the "cool, pissed off Hulk" comment. Almost. But he couldn't really bring himself to be mad with the way Tony was clinging to his hand.

"Alright, so we go in prepared for a fight and hoping for a peaceful encounter," said Steve. Bruce nodded.

"That's our best bet."

The team stood quietly, considering. Finally, Clint said "Alright Jarvis, let's get those coordinates and a couple of cars."

Natasha and Clint got in a car with Steve and Thor. Tony insisted on driving his two-seat Diablo, stating that it would make him feel better. Bruce hopped in the passenger's seat and hoped that Tony wouldn't go _too_ fast.

As they pulled out of the driveway, Bruce took Tony's hand in both of his own. He hoped that everything would work out with Penelope; he hated seeing the billionaire so tired, so down on himself. He'd gladly take the Hulk back and flee the country if it meant Tony's happiness.

Then again, it seemed Tony was never really happy in the first place.

"So, I guess you're warming up to me, then," the other genius smirked.

"What do you mean?" inquired Bruce. Tony gave his hand a squeeze.

"You grabbed for me this time. Not the other way around." Bruce sighed. It was true. And how could he help it really?

"You're sure this is what you want?" asked Bruce. He sounded so small that Tony pulled over and parked on the side of the road, turning to face him. "That _I'm _what you want?" Tony took Bruce's face into his hands and stared him dead in the eyes. There was a clarity there that had been clouded by drink so many times before. It was stunning. Bruce could see little flecks of orange throughout the dark brown.

"I have never been more sure of anything in my whole life," said Tony. "And I'm always sure about everything, so, you know, that's a big deal." Bruce said nothing to that, just kept staring into Tony's eyes. They were the kind of brown where you couldn't really distinguish the iris from the pupil, and damn if it wasn't just beautiful.

This time, Bruce kissed Tony.

They melted together, clutching at each other's shoulders and getting as close as was possible from opposite sides of the car. They were lost in the moment; until someone honked their horn. That someone, of course, being Clint.

"Guys, this is great and all," he yelled, rolling down the window and pulling up next to them, "but we really have to go now." Bruce looked dumbstruck. Tony threw back his head and laughed for the first time in days. They'd all missed that sound.

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Penelope sat on the balcony that overlooked the Xavier estate. A cool breeze whipped through her greying hair; she could smell the dew on the grass, hear the birds in the trees.

The Professor's voice rumbled pleasantly through her head.

"They are coming now." She smiled and sipped her tea.

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**Hey guys, thanks for reading. I really hope I'm doing the characters justice.**


	8. Chapter 8

**I know it's been a long time. My apologies. Also, brownie points to TeamLoki, 8fangirl8, and everyone else who correctly guessed where the team was headed. =]**

** xxx**

The team pulled up in front of a rather large mansion with a sign out front that read: Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. The building was a rich red color, and looked like one of the colleges Bruce had seen when he spent some time in England. He took in the rich green of the lawn, the European architecture, the cobblestone walkways; England had been before the incident. He closed his eyes and pretended he was there again.

The six teammates stood before the mansion for a good five minutes. They had no idea what was waiting for them behind the heavy oak doors, and no one exactly wanted to go in first, so naturally, everyone turned to look at Captain.

"Alright," he sighed. "Everyone just stick close together."

"Wouldn't it be easier to find her if we split up?" asked Natasha.

"Yeah," Steve conceded, "but this place is giving me a weird vibe. We don't know what to expect, it's probably just better to stay together."

"I'm actually with Capcicle on this one," mumbled Tony. The drive had worn him out a bit and he resumed standing in Bruce's personal space; not that the other really minded all that much. Tony still hadn't let go of his hand, and the warmth was pleasant in the chill of early autumn.

They headed up the walk and pushed through the double doors. There was hardly a point to knocking when they weren't going to take no for an answer. The lobby was empty, save for a table and a chandelier in the center of the room. There was a staircase leading up to a set of large, bay windows, which then split off into two separate sets of steps, one leading left and the other, right.

"Hello?" called Steve, "Anyone home?" Natasha elbowed him in the side. "Hey!"

"Good going Cap," she said, "there goes our element of surprise."

"Guys," grumbled Bruce, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand, "diplomatic approach. I won't say it again."

A voice rolled through the lobby; or maybe it was just in their minds. Still, the team snapped to attention when they heard it.

"Welcome Avengers," said a smooth English accent, "we have been awaiting your arrival. Take the left set of stairs to the end of the hall. There you will find a balcony."

Just as suddenly as it had started, the voice cut off, leaving the team in stunned silence.

"So, everyone heard that, right?" asked Tony, his head snapping comically left and right, trying to locate the source of the sound. "I swear to God, if they built a Jarvis—"

"Alright," interrupted Clint, "let's go."

The team moved quickly up the stairs, following the voice's directions.

"I don't like this," said Natasha warily, "how do they know who we are? Why are we doing what that voice said? It could be a trap."

"We're Earth's Mightiest Heroes as I recall," rumbled Thor, looking much more upbeat than the rest of the team. "They are welcoming us as friends! Who in this realm does not know of us?"

"That's true," agreed Bruce. "And as for doing what it said, well, what other choice do we have? Are we just going to wander around until we find her?" He was not graced with a response.

At the top of the stairs was a hall with smaller doors lining each side. At the end, the balcony.

It was difficult to see through the blown glass panels on the French Doors, but Bruce could make out the form of an older woman sitting in one of the deck chairs. She was drinking something, maybe tea.

"That's got to be her," he said. Clint nodded.

"Right," he said, "well let's go. I want my eyes back."

The team moved down the hall, led by Clint. When he arrived at the doors, he reached for the handle, but they swung open before he could touch them. He froze.

"Come and sit, Avengers," said Penelope, motioning to several more chairs gathered around the glass table. "I was wondering when you'd be coming to visit me."

"What the hell did you do to us?" demanded Clint. No one had moved to sit. _So much for being polite_ thought Bruce.

"_To_ you?" asked Penelope, incredulous, "I did this _for _you. How do you expect to defend the world when you cannot even understand each other?"

"I think we did a pretty damn good job when the Chitauri invaded," mumbled Tony. Penelope pretended not to hear him.

"Ma'am," Steve began, taking a seat, "I understand what you mean. I've been trying to get the team to connect and act like-well-a team for quite some time now. But I think we can switch back. We've mastered each other's skills, we're ready for whatever comes our way. We just need to be ourselves again."

_Yes,_ thought Tony. _Then I can work on my suit and Natasha can do assassin-y things, Cap can Cap, Thor can thunder, Clint can shoot, and Bruce…_

_Bruce gets to have this horrible burden back inside of him._

"M-maybe—" stuttered Tony, releasing Bruce's hand and sitting shakily next to Steve, "maybe you could only switch s-some of us back. Or give Bruce my Iron Man shit and leave me with—with the Hulk."

"What the hell are you talking about, Tony?" Tony had never heard Bruce quite so close to yelling, not even during that fight on the helicarrier.

"No, Bruce, don't be mad," he pleaded, ignoring the awestruck looks on his friends' faces. "It's just, I could take this for you, make it so you don't have to do it anymore. So that you could have a normal life—aside from, you know, being an Avenger with the suit and all. You'd be Iron Man."

"That," said Bruce slowly, "is not happening, Tony. Not in a million years."

"It could be done," Penelope interjected.

"No!" shouted Bruce. Everyone flinched on instinct, but damn it felt good to yell for once. "I won't let you do that. No one should have to live with The Other Guy. He's my mistake…_my_ burden."

"Well, you saw how he behaved when I hulked-out," whispered Tony. "He's just…misunderstood. I could fix him maybe, make him less violent—"

"Yes," said Bruce, "you hulking-out showed me that he can be contained, that he can change. But I need to be the one to do that. I won't dump him off on you, and I certainly can't have you live with the consequences of _my_ actions. Look at you Tony," he appealed, "I've never seen you like this. You're…broken."

Tony smirked a bit. "I was always broken, Banner," he stated, "now I'm just being honest about it." Bruce didn't really know what to say to that, and so opted to say nothing at all. Instead he sighed and cast his eyes at the blind fortune teller.

"As I was saying, it _could_ be done," she emphasized, "but that does not mean it _will_ be." Bruce let out a huff of relief, and could have sworn he saw Steve do the same.

"Why the fuck not?" demanded Tony, but his question fell dry, lacked the power he usually spoke with. _That's why_, thought Bruce, _because you're not yourself._

"I have been directed to restore each of you to your original power," she revealed, "when I deem you ready."

"Directed?" asked Clint, moving closer. "Who are you working for?"

"That would be me," came a voice from the hallway behind them. Bruce watched Steve's eyes widen, saw Tony's roll as if to say "of fucking course". Natasha and Clint whipped around and Thor guffawed.

Bruce didn't even need to turn around. He recognized Nick Fury's voice anywhere.


	9. Chapter 9

"Director Fury," smiled Bruce, turning to face the man. "I can't say I'm surprised." Fury was accompanied by a bald, older man in a wheelchair. He wore an easy smile.

"Welcome to my school for gifted youngsters, Avengers," he said. Bruce recognized his English accent as the voice they'd heard in the lobby. "I am Professor Xavier."

"Okay, yeah, great," grumbled Clint, "and I'm sure you know who we are, so let's just skip the introductions. What's the idea?"

"Agent Barton," Fury scolded, "we need to be polite to our host."

"It's quite fine, Nick, I assure you," the professor chuckled. "I've had far ruder greetings than this."

"Nick?" whispered Tony so only Bruce could hear him. "Shit, first name basis. Abort mission." Bruce hid a grin behind his hand.

"The _idea_ Agent Barton, was to make your little group a little closer," explained Xavier. "Nick thought that by switching your powers, you would all learn to work together on a more intimate level."

"Yeah? Well we have," said Steve. "Good job everyone. Okay, let's switch back now."

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that, Captain," Fury stated. "You have to prove that, in a situation like this, you can work together."

"Well how the hell do we do that?" asked Tony, incredulous. "Just sit around and wait for another robot alien invasion?"

"That won't be necessary," Xavier smiled proudly. "I think you will find that my facilities can provide exactly the kind of scenario you will need."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The Avengers followed Xavier and Fury down flights upon flights of stairs. Bruce tried to calculate exactly how far below ground they were travelling, but gave up after a while. It was too exhausting; his mind was on other things.

Things like how exactly Madame Penelope had switched their powers in the first place, how Fury knew this Prof. Xavier guy, and what kinds of 'gifts' these 'youngsters' had.

"All in good time, doctor," soothed Xavier's voice. His lips had not moved, but Bruce had heard him. He looked around at the team, but it seemed the professor's message was solely for him this time. And really, how the _fuck_ did he _do_ that? "All in good time," the voice said again. Bruce could have sworn he was chuckling.

The team finally arrived in a very high tech basement that vaguely reminded Bruce of one of the labs in Tony's R&D department. Tony broke away from him to flit between tables, touching everything he could see.

"Please refrain from doing that, Mr. Stark," sighed Prof. Xavier. "We have other business to attend to."

Tony backed away looking almost ashamed. Almost. Still, his eyes wandered over all the shiny new toys.

At the end of the large room, there was another area, separated by a door and a large, glass window. The room itself was white and empty, without a single chair or desk. An observation room. Bruce shuddered.

"Now it's time to see how much you've all improved," smirked Fury, gesturing to the door. Tony could see the tension rolling off of Bruce in waves.

"I'm not going in there," the doctor growled.

"I assure you, Dr. Banner, the room is entirely safe. No tricks," promised Xavier. "I will simply type in a few codes on this panel," he explained, gesturing to a panel beside the room, "which will initiate a sort of training program. All of my students use it."

"And what if I want to get out?" asked Bruce apprehensively.

"You'll all be able to walk out after the simulation is over," said Fury, looking Bruce in the eye. "The door doesn't lock."

The team stood in silence a while, entirely disregarding the director and the professor. All eyes were on Bruce. Finally, the physicist sighed.

"Alright, let's just do it," he agreed. "The sooner we finish this shit, the sooner we can get back to normal." Clint nodded.

"Right. Let's do this."

Fury held the door open for them while he explained the task at hand.

"You will be dropped into a war zone on an unfamiliar planet. This is just a simulation," he clarified when Thor looked confused. "You will be expected to adapt to the terrain, enemy, and weapons using each other's skills. Good luck."

Bruce filed in behind the others, gripping Mjolnir in one hand and Tony's in the other. The door swung shut behind them, and Bruce fought to control his breathing. Then he remembered he didn't really need to, as long as Tony had the Hulk. Old habits die hard.

As if to emphasize this point, he reached behind him and jiggled the door handle. It was unlocked, as the director said it would be.

"Initiating," came the professor's voice.

Bruce was ready for anything. After hiding out in third world countries, an alien invasion, moving into a tower in the city, and just being with people again, he was sure that there was truly nothing that could throw him for a loop anymore.

God, was he wrong.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry for the serious delay. As I've explained before, I'm getting ready to go to college, and have had literally no time to write anything. I will be moving in on Sunday, but after the minor panic and confusion I am sure to face in the following days, I will be writing up a storm again, I assure you.**

**We are nearing the end of the fic, and I hope you have enjoyed it. Thanks for reading. :D**

**-xxxxxxx-xxxxxxx-**

The floor swiftly became sand beneath their feet; it was a rich, burnt gold color that Bruce had only seen before in desert environments. The heat was thick and immediate, overwhelming him. He ran a hand through his hair quickly and scanned the scene. There appeared to be nothing for miles. A collection of dark mountains rose in the distance, capped with a thin layer of snow.

A lazy breeze rolled through and disturbed the sand, providing a moment of relief from the heavy heat of the noon time sun.

Beside him, Bruce could hear Tony's breathing become labored. He didn't know what had exactly happened in Afghanistan; Tony had never finished telling him, becoming closed off every time he bagan to explain. What he did know was that Rhodey had found Tony wandering in the desert, beaten half to death and exhausted.

"So I guess this is just a survival mission?" asked Cap.

"I do not believe we will be that lucky," admitted Thor, sharp eyes straining against the light, "There appears to be a sort of army approaching from the mountains."

"How many are there?"

"At least a thousand, and well-armed," replied the demi-god, unsheathing an arrow.

"Okay, let's split up and try to find some cover," instructed Clint. "If we can surprise them, we'll have the upper hand."

"Right," nodded the Captain. "Thor, Clint, and I will hide behind that sand dune up ahead so that he can keep eyes on them. Tony and Bruce," he said, addressing the pair, "stay back here and get low to the ground. They won't be able to see you until they're close. "

"I'll fly as high as I can and get an aerial view," said Natasha.

"I'll see if I can get you some cloud cover," supplied Bruce, cranking Mjolnir. The sky rumbled.

"Let's do it!" cried Clint, taking off after Thor. Natasha took to the sky.

Steve turned to Tony. "You alright?" Tony paused for a moment, wide eyed, before replying.

"I'm fine, Capsicle," he snapped. "It's not like I was _entirely_ useless before the Iron Man technology." He gained a long suffering look from the Captain before he ran off to catch up with his group. Bruce dropped to his stomach in the sand, motioning for Tony to do the same.

"Okay, but seriously," Tony whispered, "I'm pretty fucking useless right now. The Jolly Green Giant doesn't want to get mad for me."

"Just lay low," Bruce murmured back. "This might end up dissolving pretty quickly. You might not even need to fight."

"What are you talking about?" asked Tony, horrified. "I may not have a rage monster or a metal suit, but I'm sure as shit not going to just lay here like some distressed damsel while the rest of you fight those guys!" he declared, his voice rising ever so slightly. "Am I just supposed to watch you guys get pummeled, or—"

He was swiftly cut off by Bruce slamming their lips together in a rough kiss. Tony's eyes widened in shock, and then drifted shut as he reciprocated.

"Will you kindly . ." growled Bruce, punctuating each word with a kiss.

Tony simply nodded, his eyes fluttering. If they weren't in the desert waiting on some kind of attack, Tony might have ripped Bruce's clothes off right then and there.

As it was, Natasha was in the process of landing beside them and hitting the ground, attempting to remain unseen in the flashing red and gold of the suit.

"They're coming in fast," she panted. "It's like they know we're here."

"Maybe they do," grumbled Bruce. "Training simulation, remember? They're computers, they have to know we're present within the program."

"And they're coming to eliminate us, like a virus," chuckled Tony. "That would be cool if this wasn't going to suck so much." Bruce hummed in agreement. In the distance, he saw Clint pop up out of the dune and raise a fist.

"That's our go," said Natasha. Tony could see the army now, could distinguish between each soldier. He heard Bruce gasp beside him as they came into his poorer vision.

They wore thick looking robes that matched the sand, and carried guns, weapons that Tony was sure he'd seen before. That wasn't the horrifying part.

They had no goddamned eyes.

There were two slits where nostrils might be, and large, gaping mouths with pointed teeth on skin that might have been leather.

"Now!" shouted Cap.

"Stay here, Tony!" commanded Bruce, running headlong at the line of blind warriors. Thor bellowed from atop the sand dune, loosing arrow after arrow into the oncoming battalion and Natasha zoomed overhead, sending off blasts from the suit's hand thrusters.

"Like fucking hell I'm staying here," grunted Tony to no one in particular. He pushed himself up and took off after his teammates. On his left, Bruce swung the hammer, striking the freakish devils with blows to rival Thor's. Clint threw the shield like a Frisbee, knocking out multiple enemies at a time. And Tony? Tony stood amid the action and had no clue at all what to do.

Until a particularly hefty being began throwing punches at him. The self-defense training he'd taken after Afghanistan kicked in, and Tony dodged, landing a few punches of his own. He snapped the strap across its chest and grabbed the gun from its back, shooting it point blank in the face. The gun felt so familiar in his hand, and Tony regarded it, the black metal of the weapon warm from the sun.

A white Stark Industries logo shone on its side.

Tony could feel his heartbeat rising and his gut wrench. He'd been on edge since entering the desert, such a close replica to the horror he'd endured, but this? This proved it. Someone was fucking with him. He was shaken from his thoughts by a yelp to his left. Bruce was over encumbered with enemies, trying in vain to swing at them full force. The rest of the team was stuck battling their own masses, unable to get to the good doctor. Lightening flashed in the sky as Bruce attempted to strike down the hoard surrounding him, but it was no use. They took him down. Tony ran in his direction, firing his gun at anything in his way, but two nimbler things (because what could they be called besides things?) jumped at his ankles and dragged him to the ground. Tony twisted in their grasp, turning and attempting to fire, but the clip in the gun had run out.

Tony looked up and reached a hand out, but he could not reach Bruce, could not crawl with the weight of the _things_ on his ankles. They bit at the area behind his knees, drawing blood and hunks of flesh with their razor sharp incisors. Across the battlefield, Tony caught sight of Bruce, his teeth gritted against the pain, before he was completely covered.

"Bruce," Tony whimpered. Something inside him ripped. Then everything was black.

From the sky, Natasha heard the roar. She turned in time to see a flash of green and muscle barreling across the sand. Under the mask, she grinned.


End file.
